My Albion
by MaternalNyx
Summary: Pre-F3; Logan has returned from his defeat in Aurora and is visited by a woman calling herself The Seer of Spire. Albion faces a dark threat and Logan is given the task to save it, but he knows what the darkness can do and he'll do anything to stop it.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story contains major spoilers for those who haven't beaten Fable 3. I have taken some slight liberties(who hasn't?) when it comes to some character details. None the less, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Those dreams. The darkness that echoed in his mind was driving Logan insane. The wounds still throbbed and even now he could hear the death knells from his men. Nothing would be able to rip the memories from his mind. All he had at that moment was his life and a promise to the woman who had saved it. A life for a life. Logan had promised the woman an army. He had promised to send more of his soldiers into the heat of an unknown desert and battle some ancient evil.

Logan stared into the distance, hoping to see the shores of his home, but saw nothing except an endless ocean. He tightened his grip on the railing and lowered his eyes. What he wouldn't give to be home, to hold a familiar body in his arms and listen to the stories he had always thought dull. Logan was surprised at how much he missed his sister. The threat of death had put everything into a new perspective. While he could best anyone in battle the only thing on the forefront of his mind besides his sister was training. He knew he would put Walter through the wringer in an attempt to hone his skills even further.

The time at sea ran together and the crew that carried him was just the bare essentials. Logan would offer them refuge in return but as he studied the tired men, he had a feeling they would only wish to return home. They all bore battle scars. Logan touched his lip, feeling the tender wound and knowing that he would have one of his own. There were others, yes, but only the one was readily visible. The others, the ones that held the horror of that dark battle, were hidden beneath clothing and heavily bandaged.

Soon enough he was on the shores of his homeland but there was no royal procession. There had been no use in sending a letter, it would have been ages before it reached the castle and even longer before help would have found him. It was fear of another attack that drove him away, and that same fear that made that promise.

Logan stumbled through the streets of Bowerstone unrecognized by his citizens. He wore clothes alien to them and the aftermath of exploration and battle had left him gaunt. Even as he stared at his own likeness on the streets Logan could see how much he had changed. He needed to get home. He needed the comfort of a familiar face.

The castle walls loomed over Logan as he hurried towards the closed gate. The guards eyed him, not seeing their king but a crazed man in his place. Both moved to stop him, weapons at the ready as they shouted at him to stop, while the two standing guard in the towers drew their firearms.

"Let me pass," Logan spat. His voice was hoarse and his throat dry. No doubt he did not sound like himself.

"Unless you are here on official business-"

"I highly doubt that."

"-we cannot let you through."

Logan narrowed his eyes. He had made it this far, he would not be denied access to his own home. "By order of the King," Logan said, managing to call up his natural voice, "I suggest you move before I have you both locked away."

The color in their faces seemed to drain and they both snapped to attention. "Do you wish us to inform the servant, your majesty."

"Just let me through," Logan said waving his hand. "I need to speak with Walter and my sister."

Neither guard protested and the signal was given for the gate to be opened. Logan watched as his home came into view. The well groomed gardens and wandering nobles a welcomed sight. As he crossed the threshold, though, the ground before him seemed to tilt. Pressing a hand to his head Logan stopped and tried to clear his mind. He looked past the tilting ground and up at the palace. As he blinked he felt his stomach tighten at the sight of the palace on fire.

"No," Logan murmured. "It cannot be." He shook his head and squeezed eyes shut, knowing that it had to be an illusion. Slowly opening his eyes Logan felt fear grip as he stared into the face of _it._ There was no time for him to contemplate what was before him before everything seemed to go black.


	2. Chapter 2

'_It is time..._'

Those words echoed in Logan's mind, coaxing him out of the darkness. He forced his eyes open and saw a foggy world around him. It took him only a moment to recognize the war room and the map of Albion before him. Yet it was the robbed figure standing across from him that caused Logan to pause. There was no doubt the person hidden beneath the crimson robes was a woman but they kept their head down and their face hidden beneath a deep shadow, warding off unwanted stares.

"Who are you?" Logan asked.

The figure spread out their hands, "I am known as the Seer of the Spire."

Logan eyed the Seer, "I've know of you but I always took those stories as myths."

"Many myths are born of reality," the Seer replied, a smile sounding in her voice, "but I come with grave news."

Those words caused Logan to stiffen. "What do you mean?"

"The being that haunts your dreams, it seeks to destroy Albion." The Seer waved her hand over the map of Albion and from it's shadow sprung a familiar, solidified darkness. The sight of it made Logan's skin crawl and he stared at the seer. "In five years time you must stand against it."

Logan watched as the darkness seemed to ooze over the map, engulfing everything in it's wake. He felt his heart race as the markers of Bowerstone disappeared and with it the castle. He looked away. "It plans to follow me?"

"This creature has had Albion in it's sights for centuries, King. Why it has waited this long I do not know." The Seer slowly rounded the table, her hands clasped before her and head bent, "You must prepare yourself and your people for a great war or many will die. The kingdom that your mother fought to create cannot fall."

"Mother," Logan breathed. Whispering that word brought back so many memories from his childhood. The woman had been a mighty warrior and benevolent ruler, a person he looked up to. When both his parents died Logan swore he would follow his mother's lead and rule as she had. While he was not gifted in the use of Will, he had inhereted some abilities of the Archon bloodline. Logan looked up at the Seer, catching a glimpse of the sightless eyes beneath the hood. While those orbs seemed void of color he could feel the woman watching him; it made his skin crawl. "Will you help us?"

The Seer shook her head. "Conference is all I can give. As your journey continues I will return to shed light on coming situations."

…._Logan_...

The sound of his name caused Logan's head to throb. He shook winced against the pain, noting that the Seer had disappeared. He looked down at the map and saw the barest hint of his own reflection in the darkness that covered it. It seemed to pulsate as it continued to expand across the table.

…._Logan_...

The voice; it was his sister's. She sounded distant and desperation carried in her tone."Tara?" Logan looked around but there was nothing but the mist filled room. He hurried to one of the doors only to find it stuck. He pounded on it, calling for the guards but all he heard was the echo of his own voice.

…._Wake up_...

* * *

Logan let out a gasp as he bolted upright in his bed. His breaths were heavy and shallow as he tried to see in his candlelit room. The image of the Seer was still present in his mind as were her words. Part of him hoped that it was dream induced by his recent trauma but there was a part of him that knew better.

A sob broke Logan from his thoughts and he glanced towards the sound. Tara was sitting at his bedside, her face hidden in her hands as she cried. Without a word Logan took hold of her and the sobbing seemed to cease. He wrapped his younger sister in a tight embrace, noting that his thin shirt dried her tears, and welcomed the familiarity of the moment. There had been times when they were younger that she would come to him crying and the only thing he could do was hug her until she was calm. Now it was more for his own comfort than hers.

"Hush," Logan whispered. "You don't need to cry."

Tara shook her head against him. "Th-they wouldn't let me see you. They told me that I didn't have to worry about you."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Two days." Tara pulled away and looked at her brother. Logan could see the worry etched on her face, her eyes rimmed red from her tears, and realized that she must have been beside him for some time. "I thought you were going to die, Logan. I snuck in here and you were so pale, and they had candles lit. It was like when mother…."

Logan held Tara close again and, for a moment, felt selfish. "There are still many things for me to do, so death has to wait." He lifted her chin and smiled as he studied her tear streaked face, "You would make a wonderful queen, Tara. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"I haven't been groomed from birth like you have," Tara replied. "I wouldn't know the first thing to do as queen."

The crown was sitting on a bedside table, something Logan only now noticed. He realized the implications and understood how close to death people thought he had been. Without saying a word he took the crown and gingerly placed it on Tara. It was a little big for her but she looked up in awe and ran her fingers over it.

"You wouldn't be alone," Logan replied. "There are many, many people that help me rule. They would be here for you as well."

Tara removed the crown and looked it over before silently placing it on Logan. "It looks better on you, brother."

The crown weighed heavy on his head and Logan couldn't help but feel helpless. He had looked forward to being home, to speaking with his sister, and returning to some semblance of normal life. Those visions, though, had tossed it all aside and there was nothing he could do. There were so many things that had to be done to protect the citizens. Above all else he had to protect Tara.

"Logan?"

"What is it, Tara?"

"You look pale. Do you want me to call for a doctor?"

Logan shook his head, "Fetch Walter for me and then I want you to return to your studies." Tara pursed her lips before nodding and hurrying towards the door. She paused when he called to her again, looking over her shoulder and watching what appeared to be only a shadow of a man. "I want you to remember that I love you. No matter what happens, remember that."

Tara smiled softly, "I'll never forget."


	3. Chapter 3

Money, that's what it boiled down to. While there was no shortage on willing soldiers there was not enough money to supply them. The treasury couldn't handle such a hit. Five years seemed so far away but it loomed over Logan like the shadow of death it was. He knew he could create new laws and decree what ever he wished, he was King. Yet he hesitated to put pen to paper and do so.

War was coming and only Logan knew it. He muttered it beneath his breath and noticed the slight quirk in Walter's eyebrow but the man said nothing. Logan wished he could confess everything to his adviser but something stopped him. No one knew exactly what had happened during his last excursion and he was in no hurry to remember it. Walter knew of his wounds but prodded no further than making sure the King was well; everyone has horrible memories, that he knew first hand.

"How are your wounds, sir?"

Logan blinked and looked up from the map of Albion. Walter was watching him, papers in hand. "They're healing nicely," he replied with a slight smile. "The scars shouldn't be too displeasing and, thankfully, they're in places the public won't see."

"About today's business-"

"You handle that, Walter," Logan sighed. He cast his eyes back to the map, the image of what the Seer had shown him still haunting his memories. He could still the darkness well in the deserts of Aurora and slowly bleeding outward. "I have more important things on my mind."

Walter frowned beneath his mustache. "The people will want to see you, Logan. Its been three days since you've come out of that stupor of yours and the people know something happened."

"How?" Logan shot the man a fire filled glare.

"Servants no doubt, maybe a guard."

Logan pursed his lips together and gripped the edge of table with all his strength, "Find out who let this slip; I wish to speak with them."

Walter shrugged and held out the papers in his hand, "Never the less, there are things that you have to tend to yourself."

There was no point in arguing with the weathered warrior, something Logan had learned long ago. He took the papers with a slight frown and glanced over them. It was the same things he had seen many times before. Personal problems that needed a King's decision, a new excavation site needing the royal signature, and noble men and women wanting to speak with him for whatever reason. The last paper, though, was an invitation to a party.

"What is this?" Logan asked, holding up the item in question.

"Oh, that is a reminder about Reaver's private party happening within the next few days." Walter replied.

"Party?" Logan laughed. "Why in the world would-"

"You agreed to it last month," Walter said, clearing his throat, "and I think it may be a good idea to attend. Despite his debauchery, the man has connections."

Logan stared at Walter for a moment, silently wondering why he had brought up the man's 'connections.' He pushed it aside and figured he was referring to something else entirely. If what he said was true, though, Reaver could be a possible ally. "Fine, I'll attend and I suppose I should see to these other matters personally."

Hearing those words brought a slight smile of relief to Walter's face. He shadowed Logan, explaining what he knew about the day's agenda. In the back of his mind he hoped that going back to his normal duties would pull the King out of his odd melancholy. While most passed it off as Logan recovering Walter could see that there was something more to it. Yes a brush with death could change a man but there was something stirring beneath the calm surface of Logan's being. Something had happened and there were already cracks forming.

"I want you to know, Your Majesty, that if there is something you need to talk about I'm here for you not only as your adviser but as a friend."

Logan came to a slow stop and turned to Walter. He smiled slightly, "Thank you. I...I still think I'm recovering from my travels."

"About that," Walter said, lowering his voice, "you have been the only one to return. What exactly happened? What's out there?"

Taking in a deep breath Logan shook his head, "There was nothing out there. We found an endless desert filled with horrible creatures. Those men saved my life and I vowed that they wouldn't die in vain. Albion will never fall." Logan turned away without another word, ignoring the confused expression on Walter's face. He had said too much.

* * *

"A party? Is there any way I can attend as well?"

Logan smiled slightly as he looked himself over in the mirror. Behind his reflection he could barely make out Tara; she was sitting on his bed, her new puppy in her lap trying desperately to crawl away. It had been a present, something to cheer her up in the wake of his own souring disposition. Logan tried his best to smile around her and to ignore the ever present horrors of the recent past.

"I don't think this is something you'll enjoy, my little princess." Logan laughed as he saw a frown pass over his sister's face. She was on the cusp of womanhood, just entering her fifteenth year, and was beginning to resent being called 'little.' He couldn't help it, though; Tara would forever be the small child he comforted when their mother had passed. "It will be full of nobles talking about themselves."

"I heard it was Reaver's party," Tara continued. She picked up her puppy pressed her nose against the poor thing's snout in an odd form of affection. "All of his parties are supposed to fun."

Logan shook his head and turned to his sister, "Reaver is the worst of them all. Everything pertains to him in his twisted mind. He's a spoiled child that thinks everything belongs to him or will at some point." He didn't know why he said what he had, he barely knew Reaver. Most of what anyone knew about the enigmatic man was based in rumor and most of those the man made himself. There was no doubt Reaver loved the life of high society but he was manipulative and out for himself.

"Then why do people like him?"

"He has money and his friends are of questionable nature." Logan smiled and motioned to himself, "How do I look?"

Tara cocked her head to one side and eyed her brother's choice of clothes. "Why didn't you let Jasper pick out some of you clothes?"

Logan laughed and sat beside Tara, "Is it that bad?"

"No, its just that Jasper has impeccable taste!"

"He said that about himself, didn't he."

Tara grinned, "But he does, doesn't he?"

"If you think he can pick something better, then fetch him," Logan replied. He watched his sister crawl off the bed, her puppy in her arms wriggling around all the while. "And put that poor thing in your room. I think he needs some time alone."

* * *

While he usually picked his own outfits Jasper seemed more than happy to show Logan an outfit that suited his position in society. He had been reluctant to agree to the change but upon Tara's pestering he went with Jasper's choice. The outfit was something he had kept away for sometime, fearing the days he would have to be dressed up: a shirt with full sleeves, a cravat to go along with it, and a pair of breeches that came just below his knees. He fought, though, to wear his boots rather then the low heeled buckled shoes. The colors were a mix of deep purples and blacks which, from what Jasper and Tara said, complimented him. He had never been one to enjoy waist coats and reluctantly added it to the ensemble as he left.

Logan was taken to Reaver's estate by carriage and alone. The invitation was his and no one else's, and it seemed like he would have had to pull teeth to get someone to join him. Walter made the off hand remark that if Logan had lady friend then it would have been understandable to bring her along. Logan didn't know how to respond to such a comment. Courting women had been the last thing on his mind before his journey to Aurora and now the thought of starting a family caused his stomach to tie itself into a knot. Those ideas had never interested him, he never knew why. He was thrust into his position as king so early and so suddenly that he pushed all other things aside. There was a country to be run, and his sister needed to be looked after above all else, to be given a decent upbringing despite their loss.

"Your Majesty?"

He hadn't noticed the driver opening the door nor the wash of cool air but as Logan looked past the humble man he spotted Reaver's home. It out-shined the other homes in Millifields and, to no surprise, was extravagant. Logan's first urge was to tell the man to take him back to the castle. Yet he heard his sister's voice in the back of his mind. She wanted to hear about the party, in great detail no less! He had promised and he used that very thing to bolster himself.

It wasn't long before word of his arrival had spread into the house. Logan faltered as he stepped through the door, being greeted by applause and nearly surrounded by those of high society. He put his years of tutelage to work and worked the crowd around him. In the back of his mind he told himself that this had to be done. The people of Albion had to be reassured, their spirits high. Their faces and voices, though, came in a blur and most of what was talked about was lost in the noise and music around him.

The moment he had the chance Logan retreated to one of the many adjacent rooms. While the room was empty of party goers and the door originally closed, a fire burned in the hearth. It was the room's only source of light, save for any moonlight streaming in from the window, and it was a much needed comfort that Logan wanted. He sank into one of the plush arm chairs that sat before the fireplace and stared into the flames with a sigh of comfort. Even if the man was a pompous fop Reaver did know a thing or two about comfort.

"Ah, I see you have decided to hide yourself away."

Logan pushed himself out of the chair and spun around in a flurry. He began to yell at the person, to tell them that he wished to be alone but stopped. Reaver stood before the closing door, a smile tugging on his lips. The man bent ever so slightly at the hip in his version of a bow. It was the first time he had ever laid eyes on the man before but he knew that face thanks to posters hanging on walls around Bowerstone's growing industrial district. He had to admit, though, the images did him no justice

"I was looking for a place to be by myself," Logan said once he found his voice.

Reaver waved his hand through the air as he moved towards one of the cabinets. "You have no need to explain, Your Majesty. Your mother was very much the same."

He hadn't bothered to recall the memories of his mother uttering Reaver's name but now they rushed forth. Logan remembered when the man had appeared in Albion as if from nothing, building and buying things left and right. She was never happy when he sought her council and rarely gave it. He had asked her why once and the response he was given had stuck with him. '_I want you to stay away from that man. Nothing good ever comes from him_.' This, though, was the first time Logan had ever laid as on him personally.

"She also told me to stay away from you."

A laugh escaped Reaver that sent an odd chill through Logan's body, "She never took a shine to me. I blame your father for that." He pulled a bottle of wine from the cabinet followed by two glasses. Nothing else was said as he prepared the two drinks and sauntered towards Albion's ruler. "Take it; I promise I won't bite..."

Logan took the glass pausing as he heard Reaver mutter under his breath, 'hard.' He ignored the man and downed the wine in one mouthful. He knew it was bad form to do so but it was the first taste of alcohol he had in weeks, and it drew another smile from his host.

"You seem a little tense," Reaver proclaimed after taking slow sip of the wine. "If the wine doesn't help I can call in one of the servants to give you a massage. This one girl, Emily, has an interesting way of-"

"I don't want to hear about your perverted escapades," Logan snapped. The smile on Reaver's face twisted into something a little more lecherous as the young King brushed past him. Logan didn't care if it made him look bad but he poured himself another glass of wine. He tensed as he felt Reaver's hand run up his back and come to rest on his shoulder.

"Seems like someone is trying to drink away their pain," Reaver said softly.

Logan shrugged off Reaver's hand and turned to face him, his eyes narrowed. "I am in no mood to joke and least of all with you. You know nothing of my problems."

Once more that playful smile danced across Reaver's lips as he took a slow drink of his wine. "Oh but I would _love_ to hear them. Perhaps I can convince you to stay behind once the other guests have taken their leave."

"They are my own," Logan seethed. No truer words were spoken. That _thing_ hidden in the deserts, plotting Albion's destruction, was his problem. Now Logan wanted leave more than anything. He was growing more and more uncomfortable as he realized how close Reaver was. Everyone knew about the man's history with women and men alike. Nothing would be more scandalous than someone finding Logan being corner by such a person.

"Thank you for inviting me. As much as I would love to stay I have business to tend to."

Reaver stepped aside but grabbed Logan's arm as he began to move past, "Next time I see you, why don't you indulge me? I love secrets."

Logan's only response was to pull away from the man and storm out of his home. He was angry. Angry at the situation he was in. Angry that there was no one he could talk to and no one he could turn to with out feeling like he was burdening them. Reaver, though...Logan pushed the thought from his mind before it could fully form. What he needed now was sleep.

* * *

A/N: Reaver...he is my bane. Sorry if he seems out of OC. While I enjoy him in the games, he seems to escape me(imho) when I try and write.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you all for reading and thanks for the comments! I'm happy people are enjoying this as much as I am.**

* * *

"Again?" Logan frowned. "Send him the same message. I apologize but I am unable to see him." It had been a month since Reaver's damned soiree and he had done everything in his power to put it behind him. Yet the man continued to pursue him for some unknown reason. Logan had no intention of divulging any secrets to him or even to get on friendly terms. He had no time for any of that. All he could do was prepare plans.

Walter shook his head, "It seems like he's not getting the message. He's here and is demanding to see you personally."

Logan gripped the hilt of his sword and drove the blade deep into the training dummy before him with a grunt. He had wanted to train with another person but Walter claimed there was nothing more to teach. The King of Albion knew what there was to know about sword fighting and all there was left was endless training against motionless objects.

"Tell him I'm busy, anything to get him to leave."

"He says that he wishes to make a donation of some sort."

Those words caused Logan to pause as he wrenched his sword free. He paced back to his starting point, his eyes on the ground as he mulled over what was said. "Bring him to me," Logan said as he once more began his forms.

"Do you want me to send for some fresh clothes before your meeting?" Walter asked.

Logan hadn't thought about that. Most of his early morning had been spent going through the motions of sword fighting, so much so that he was ignoring most of his royal duties. Above all else, he had been working up a sweat and had removed his shirt. There was no need to be modest when he practiced alone and changing now seemed like a lost cause. Logan shook his head, "If the man is desperate to speak with me he should have no issues seeing me like this." He smiled at the sound of Walter's fading laughter as he left.

Once more Logan went through his steps but it felt lack luster without a person actually blocking his attacks. He debated about tracking down a few of the guards to see which one would be willing to have a duel with him. At that point he didn't care if they were good, he just needed something to fight against.

He hadn't heard the door open but Logan did notice the tapping of footsteps and the metallic _tink_ of a cane hitting the hardwood floor. He spun around, his sword at arms length and his eyes narrowed. The end of the sword's blade was merely inches from Reaver's neck but the man didn't flinch. Rather he studied the sword with a slight smile before he looked at Logan.

"Weren't you ever told not to sneak up on an armed man," Logan asked.

Reaver's hand moved quickly and soon he had a pistol drawn, aimed steadily at Logan. "That is why I never leave with out this."

Logan flicked his eyes at the weapon but showed no fear. "You fire that thing and my guards will flood this room in moments." A soft chuckle escaped Reaver and he slowly put the gun back in its hidden holster. Logan lowered his sword turning away from his guest as he retreated to the rack of training weapons. "You must have seen your fair share of fights if you can stare down a sword."

"That I have," Reaver grinned. "I was never much of swordsman though. Prefer to keep my distance. I do enjoy what that type of work out does to one's body, though."

"You should watch what you say," Logan replied with a slight frown.

"How did you come about those scars?"

Logan quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and slipped it on, hoping it would serve as an answer. It didn't and the man repeated what he had said. He had to change the subject. "My adviser told me you wished to donate money. Why?"

The question seemed to baffle Reaver and he let out a laugh. "Why? Its just a charitable donation. Besides, one shouldn't look the gift horse in the mouth."

"You never donated money to the kingdom before," Logan replied rounding on Reaver and seeming to catch the man off guard. "Why now?"

Reaver's body language seemed to instantly change as he closed the gap between them, his eyes harsh as he stood beside his king. "These are dire times, are they not? We have some nameless, faceless horror lurking just out of arm's reach and barely enough time to prepare."

Logan felt the color drain from his face but he tried his damnedest to keep his composure. "How did you...Who told you?"

Reaver shrugged, "Lets just say a little birdie told me."

"What you're proposing is blackmail," Logan hissed.

"No, I am giving you a donation. I am also suggesting that I work for you. I have some plans for the Industrial District and some uses for Mistpeak. All of this can bring in more money and I can work on supplying your army. Its a win, win situation."

Logan looked at the gloved hand Reaver extended. He was weary of the man but it was the fear of what could happen if he refused that stalled him. The truth of the matter was that Logan had no clue on how to raise so much money. Reaver's suggestion was the best thing that had come forth and the man knew business.

The moment he took Reaver's hand Logan's head seemed to throb. It was the first time since he had woken from the daze that he had experienced a headache. As he looked past Reaver, though, he noticed a misty form come into view and felt his heart sink. It was the Seer.

'_Do not fear. Even though Reaver may be a man of a questionable nature_,' the Seer said, her voice ringing in Logan's head, '_he is a man of enterprise. He will prove to be a useful friend_.'

"Are you alright? Looks like you've had a brush with death."

Logan blinked and the image of the robed woman was gone. "I'm fine."

"Good! I'll return within the week to discuss our partnership more in-depth."

* * *

"Will you introduce me?"

"No." Logan could see the slight wince Tara had from his curt response. He had retreated to the study to get away from those in palace and had hoped it would have taken longer to be found. Tara, though, was a resourceful person and found him with ease.

Tara frowned slightly, "Why not?"

"I've told you before and I will not repeat myself." Logan replied with a sigh. "Mother said much the same."

"Yet you have been meeting with him for months!"

Logan brought his hand down on the desk before him with a loud smack. "Do not question me, Tara." His voice echoed in the room, his anger present even as it faded. He quickly regretted loosing his temper but he was starting to feel the pressure of a brewing war. The more Logan thought about it the more helpless he felt. Reaver was approaching him with designs for new factories, suggesting putting children to work, and setting plans in motion to begin cutting down parts of the forest of Mistpeak. He had to tall himself that it was for the greater good.

"But-"

"Leave me." Logan said, standing suddenly. He watched fear blossom in his sister's eyes as he stared her down. The pain he felt as she ran from the room was unbearable and he sank back into his chair with a heavy sigh. He ran his hands through his hair, wondering what he could do to ease Tara's pain. He sat there for what felt like hours dwelling on those thoughts and the only thing he could think of was taking here away on holiday.

Logan began to slowly walk around the room, scanning the towering bookcases for something to catch his eye. He wanted to read and frankly didn't care what it was. There were so many books on Albion's history that he didn't know where to start. Yet it was a tattered, leather bound book that caught Logan's attention. Taking it in hand and undoing the simple wrapping of a tie, he stared at the first page in awe. It was his mother's journal.

Flipping through the worn journal Logan slipped to the floor, taken in by his mother's lost words. It wasn't much in the way of excitement but it showed him how she lived her life before becoming a mother. He read on only stopping when he came upon an entry talking about a robbed woman named Theresa. The more descriptions Logan received from his mother's written words the more he became aware of how fate was twisting. The Seer was Theresa and it seemed like the woman was going to continue her shadowing of the family.

'_Tara would enjoy this_,' Logan thought as he continued to flip through the pages. She had died when Tara was still so young and her memories of their mother were faded. This would be a wonderful gift. Logan paused when he saw his mother's elegant writing spell out Reaver's name. He felt his heart quicken as he read those written words. She divulged her secret crush on the man though it had been wiped away when he attempted to take her life. It continued on describing the dark secret the man held. He was ageless at the cost of others' lives.

Logan closed the journal quickly, gripping it tightly and beginning to think twice about giving the book to Tara. '_When she's older_.' He hid the book in his desk, locking it away until he knew what to do with it. He had raised their mother to such a degree that Tara saw her as the Hero Queen she was. This would make her human, all her faults and human needs laid out it simple writing. That wasn't what was needed right now.


	5. Chapter 5

_ You led them to death, allowed them to die...You have done such hurtful things. They will rejoice to see you dead...We will snuff out every last light, smother every breath from every mouth, and stop the beating of every heart...We will come to your land. We will come for you. _

Logan woke with strangled cry, his heart pounding in his chest as the images of his dream faded. He brought his hands to his face urged the tears not to fall. In midst of that darkness he had seen the bodies of his fallen warriors. Stared into faces that were forever set in silent screams of horror. And that voice still whispered in his ears from the darkness that had surrounded him.

"Just a dream," Logan breathed. A part of him wished that there had been someone lying in bed beside him. A person he could hold on to for comfort. In his years as King he had little thought of finding his other half or even attempting to bed someone. Now with doom looming in the future he longed for that companionship. In all recent memory, though, the only person paying him any particular attention was Reaver. Out of everyone in Albion, why did he have to be the one to stand out?

The sky outside his windows were beginning to grow bright with the rising of the sun. There was no use in trying to fall back asleep. Logan slipped from his bed and dressed himself in something simple for the first time in days. He had promised Tara that he would take her to Brightwall for no less than one week and they were to set out before midday.

Logan left his room and heard nothing but silence. It was a rare moment. Usually he awoke to someone knocking on his door and the castle was already alive with sound. Now there was silence. He could smell the morning meal being prepared already and knew he truly wasn't alone, but Logan enjoyed the feeling.

Standing at the end of the hall Logan heard the sound of a door closing with the barest hint of a voice. He turned, not too sure what to expect but what he saw was the furthest thing from his mind. One of the young servants, '_Elliot_,' his mind answered, was standing beside his sister's bedroom door. The boy's eyes were wide with fear as he stood stock-still in the shadowy hall. Logan knew what the boy was thinking; he was hoping he hadn't been spotted. It took all of Logan's strength to keep himself from lashing out. He felt betrayed in a sense. Tara was going behind his back, sneaking around with one of the servants for what ever reason. He knew the two spent hours together but not the extent of it all, the fact that the boy was sneaking out of her room at such an early hour...One did not have to think too long on what could have been happening.

"Your majesty?" Logan snapped his head to the voice, noting that the boy sighed in relief. Walter stood, staring at him with a slight confused expression. "I wasn't expecting you up so early."

"Neither was I but it seems like I couldn't contain my excitement about today." It was partially a lie, Logan knew that but seemed to bring a slight smile to Walter's face. "Tell me, do we have a list of servants who are joining us in Brightwall?"

"Oh, yes."

Logan glanced down the hall, catching Elliot's attention and holding it. "I wish to go over that list and see if any adjustments need to be made."

"Right. Follow me!"

He stole one more glance of Elliot; the boy had his eyes squeezed shut and was whispering to himself. Logan smiled to himself and followed Walter. There was no guarantee that the boy was part of the collection of servants being brought with them, but he was going to take joy in making sure he wasn't.

* * *

Tara was dejected on the trip to Brightwall. Logan asked if she was well and his only response was a nod. He didn't press his luck any further and remained silent. He had removed Elliot from the list and whether or not Tara knew it was him, Logan didn't know.

It didn't take long for Tara's spirits to lift as Brightwall to come in to view. Much like everything else they had neglected their property in the town after the death of their mother. Tara had few memories of their time there but all of them were happy. Logan had those same happy memories though he had a few bitter ones as well. He didn't want to remember them. He wanted happier memories to fill his thoughts and, if all went well, a few new ones to add.

The small property was just outside of the town's glistening walls, atop a hill that seemed to overlook everything and remained secluded. Logan remember his mother telling him that she had bought it so she and their father could be alone whenever they left the castle. No one would come poking in where they weren't wanted. It turned into a family home once he was born and even more so with Tara's birth.

"Walter," Tara cried as she jumped out of the carriage, "do we have a spade?"

"I'm not sure but I can find one," Walter replied. "Why?"

Tara grinned, "Just fetch me one and I'll show you."

Logan left his sister to her devices worried more for Walter than anything else. He stood before the door, his heart racing as he unlocked and opened the door. The air seemed stale and dead as he stepped into the building. He barely noticed a few servants move around him, removing the covers from the furniture and dusting as they moved along.

"It's like time stood still," Logan breathed. He could almost hear his parents' laughter and see them sitting in the armchairs before the fire.

"Logan, look what I found!" Tara bounded into the house with a dirt crusted box in hand. Logan recognized the box the instant she held it out. It was something the two of them had buried before their father had died: a box of odd trinkets that they cherished at the time. "I can't believe it was still there! Do you remember it?"

"Of course I do." Logan smiled. He followed Tara as she put the box on the dining table and shadowed her as she slowly opened. Tara fawned over the items she pulled out speaking of the memories they held and holding them up for Logan to see. As she continued Logan took hold of a simple ring that lay beneath a few scraps of paper. It was something he had taken from his mother's jewelry box, knowing she would not miss it over the many other jeweled items. He slipped on his pinky, slightly surprised that it fit, and smiled.

Tara glanced at his hand, "It's pretty!"

Logan nodded, "It belonged to mother." He noticed the longing in Tara's eyes as she stared at the ring before turning back to the box. With a soft sigh he removed the ring from his finger and took his sister's hand, slipping it on. "Mother would want you to have it."

"But you-"

"You wanted it when we locked it away. It would be mean if I kept it from you still." The smile that spread across Tara's face caused Logan to smile in return. She thanked him profusely, swearing she would make it up to him somehow.

The week passed as if it was a dream. Tara spent the days going between their temporary home and the town, enjoying the people and Walter's company. Logan, though, remained on the property as much as he could. Even though he was surrounded by joy and fond memories his mind slowly slipped back to the terrors that would come. There was no escaping it.

Logan couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy when he returned home. The moment the carriage came to a stop she leapt out and hurried towards Elliot. The two embraced their face bright with joy as Tara led the boy away, animated in her talking. There was no one for him to go to, no one to embrace. Anger rose with that jealousy but Logan pushed it away with a frown. He couldn't let those emotions get out of hand. If all else failed he knew of one person he could search out.

Reaver.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for having such a long hiatus between posts. Life and the holidays got in the way but I'm still working on this. Oddly enough this is taking a turn that I wasn't expecting and that's because, well, it seems this story has a mind of its own. _

Also, for those interested I finally found a Fable Kink Meme, two actually. Both haven't seen any love for at least 10 days and I think we can fix that(if you're interested)! Check it out if you have the time: h t t p : / / community .livejournal .com /fable_kink/

Happy reading!

* * *

"You must be joking."

It had taken most of Logan's courage to voice the question, especially to Reaver. He had found the man supervising a few of his workers, drawing his pistol to punctuate what he was saying. Logan noticed the relief in the workers' eyes when he called Reaver away. The truth would have shocked them; for the moment he could care less what the man had in store for them.

"I'm not," Logan replied. "What is your answer?"

Reaver laughed, "So quick and to the point. While the women would be more than happy to entertain you I highly doubt they would be 'royal' material."

Logan frowned and waved his hand with a click of his tongue, "Why did I even bother?"

"If you were looking for a fling, though, I could arrange something," Reaver grinned. "It may be short notice-"

"That is not what I'm intending, Reaver." Logan snorted, slowly pacing in the man's office. This beginning to seem more and more like a bad idea. He knew all about Reaver, thanks to his mother' diary, but it still didn't stop him from conversing with the man. If anything it had piqued Logan's interest much to his own surprise.

Logan paused in his pacing as he felt Reaver's hand on his shoulder. "In all seriousness, majesty," Reaver said softly, "if you are looking to satisfy some need of yours, I'm your person. I know exactly what to do." There was no way to misunderstand the man's meaning. Reaver trailed his hand across Logan's shoulders and moved past him, a shadow of a smile on his face. "Now if you don't mind, I have work to do."

For a moment Logan stood in Reaver's office in silence, trying his best to clear his head. The words of his mother's diary haunted him now. She spoke of Reaver's way with people. He had no gender preference, anyone would do, and it was hard for a person to deny him once he set his mind to it. The more Logan thought of those entries the more he wondered and his mother and Reaver's relationship. Yes she had admitted to finding him attractive, even after the attempt on her life, but there were moments when things were vague. He was mentioned in passing at times but with other entries it seemed like it was leading up to something that was never written down.

Logan shook away the thoughts and slipped out of Reaver's office. He had more pressing matters. As he walked by the business owner, though, Logan caught sight of a coy smile on the man's face. There was something churning behind those eyes and Logan was too sure he would enjoy what Reaver had in mind.

* * *

"I get to meet him? Really?"

The smile on Tara's face seemed to outshine the uneasiness in Logan's mind. Reaver had requested another meeting, one that couldn't be rescheduled, and unfortunately most of his day was being spent with Tara. It had taken Logan some time to tell himself things would be fine if he introduced his sister to Reaver, especially since he would be there to over see it. If the man took too much interest in her Logan could send her away claiming they had to talk business.

"Yes," Logan replied. "I've gotten to know Reaver and I think it would be okay to introduce you to him. Especially since he is working so close with me."

Tara's face brightened, "When is he coming?"

"He should be here soon."

The response seemed to fluster Tara. She began to ask her brother questions at a mile minute. She wanted to know everything and she wanted to know how to act. Logan took his time to respond, trying his best to explain that while Reaver may be held in high regard in some circles Tara is Albion's princess and she should act like one. That response, after the third time, seemed to sink in and Tara's questions came to an end.

As the two made their way to the war room Logan could hear Reaver's voice echoing in the halls. He swallowed his nerves as he came to the door. Sure enough Reaver's voice was on the other side. Logan looked at Tara and saw the excited smile on her face. It was becoming rarer for him to see that smile these days and what ever nerves he was feeling was worth that.

Logan opened the door and slowly stepped into the war room. Reaver turned to him, a smug smile on his face as he waved off his personal servant. "Ah, your majesty." He gave a slight bow. His attention quickly shifted to Tara. "And who might this lovely young lady be?"

The statement caused Tara to blush as she curtsied. "My name is Tara."

Reaver looked at Logan, "Your...?"

"Sister."

"I should have noticed the resemblance," Reaver smiled. "Tara looks so much like your mother. The eyes, skin, and even her mouth."

Logan hid his anger well and glanced at Tara; she was enamored. "Tara, you'll have to excuse us. We have some business to talk about."

"Oh, yes!" Tara replied. "Will Reaver be joining us for dinner tonight?"

Reaver laughed, "Dinner here? What a marvelous idea!"

The idea didn't sit well with Logan but the smile and joy on Tara's face swayed him. He looked at Reaver, ignoring the coy smile on the man's face. "Would you like to join us for dinner, Reaver?"

"I would never think about turning down a royal invitation."

Tara cried out with joy, "I'll let the servants know!" She hurried out of the room and bounded down the hall happily.

"Such a lovely girl," Reaver sighed.

Logan closed the door, "I want you to stay away from my sister."

Reaver cocked a well groomed eyebrow. "What ever do you mean?"

"I know there was some questionable relationship between you and my mother," Logan explained advancing on Reaver. "I don't want you to go near my sister with any such intent in that deranged mind of yours."

"My relationship with your mother, hm?" Reaver smiled. "Now, where are you getting such outrageous ideas? She and I weren't on the best of terms, if you can remember."

Logan pursed his lips together, "I found a diary that my mother kept. I know your secret of everlasting youth and the fact that there was something between the two of you."

Reaver laughed and slowly circled Albion's king. "She kept a diary, did she? What sort of detail did Sparrow go into when it came to our sordid affair?"

"My mother kept it vague," Logan snapped.

"Ah, what a pity. I do love to read the accounts of my, ahem, merrymaking."

"I think we should get on with this meeting." Logan moved away, shrugging off the odd feeling that came with the situation.

"Yes, yes. All I really wanted was the okay to dump some of the sewage my factories give off in Mourning wood." Reaver explained

Logan rubbed the back of his neck, "There is a small settlement there, isn't that right."

"An extremely small settlement, your majesty," Reaver replied. "They won't notice the fact that we're dumping waste there and, in turn, Reaver Industries will continue to blossom. And continue to supply you and your growing army of course."

"How much will this cost the kingdom," Logan looked at Reaver from the corner of his eye.

"Oh, that depends. I brought with me an array of ideas, each with their own price." Reaver retrieved a rather large folder from his personal effects and presented it to Logan. "They're all right here. Take as much time as you would like but do remember there are pressing matters."

Logan nodded. He moved to the desk that sat against one of the walls, tossing the folder onto it. He would look at it at a better time, one where he wasn't nervous about Reaver and Tara. As he turned around Logan paused, eyes wide as he came face to face with Reaver. He hadn't heard the man move and from the smile on his face Logan could tell he was happy about it.

"Have you found that special someone?" Reaver asked softly.

"While its none of your concern, the answer is no." Logan swallowed hard, "Why?"

Reaver shrugged, "Curiosity. And what about the more simple wants? Taken any servants into your chambers or are you waiting for something more interesting to happen by?"

Logan gave Reaver a hard shove, catching the man off guard as he stumbled backwards. Logan could tell he was turning red and hoped Reaver took it as anger. He had more control than this. He knew how to control his emotions and, to a lesser extent, his basic needs. They were none of Reaver's concern, that much was true, but the man was taking enjoyment out of the verbal torment and Logan could tell.

"I hope you're more behaved in mixed company," Logan seethed, "because if you speak like that in front of my sister-"

"No need to explain," Reaver replied, straightening his clothes. "I'll keep such conversations for the moments when we're alone."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Like I said previously, this story has taken a slight turn that I hadn't expected originally. This is what happens when I allow things to run their course. XD Enjoy.

http : / / community .livejournal .com /fable_kink/

* * *

Logan was lost in thought again. Try as he might Logan couldn't forget the voice of the darkness and it still whispered to him in his sleep. Memories welled within his mind as did the probable future. There was still time and so much to do, but it felt so hopeless. He needed guidance and a helping hand but he didn't want to tell anyone about what had happened. The only person who seemed to know of the darkness was Reaver. It seemed like he was going to be Logan's partner in all of this.

"Isn't that right, brother?"

Logan snapped out of his thoughts and looked across the table. Tara's eyes were wide and filled with joy as she recounted some tale to Reaver. The man was eying him again with a smile tugging at his lips. "Oh, um, yes." Logan didn't know what he was agreeing with but the response made Tara grin happily and then make a face at Reaver, which wasn't becoming of a lady her age but Logan decided not to point it out.

Dinner continued in that fashion. Tara controlled the conversation and Reaver seemed to listen eagerly while Logan kept to himself. After a point wine was served, much to Logan's relief. The alcohol calmed him and in turn gave him a voice. Any nerves about Reaver's presence were gone for the time being and the haughty attitude the man had seemed to melt away.

The door to the dining room opened and Jasper slowly walked in. Tara and Reaver paid him little attention as he approached Logan. "Your Majesty?"

"Yes?" Logan replied.

"It would appear that it is time for the princess to retire for the night." Jasper said, clearing his voice.

Tara pouted, "Already? Logan, may I please stay up?"

Logan cradled his glass in hand, his eyes flicking over to Reaver as he raised his own glass to his lips. "I'm sorry, Tara, but even a princess needs her sleep."

"I enjoyed our conversation. Will you come back?" Tara asked Reaver as she stood.

"Oh, I'll be back on business," Reaver smiled, "but I suppose I can take some extra time to entertain you and your brother."

Tara seemed pleased with the response. She hurried to Logan's side, throwing her arms around her brother and placing a kiss on his cheek. The joy in her voice as she bid both of them good night made him smile.

"She is a charming girl," Reaver said once the door closed behind Tara. "So full of wonder and so naïve; I take it Tara hasn't seen much of the world?"

Logan shook his head and drank the remainder of wine in his glass. "Our parents kept us both rather secluded which, in hindsight, is rather odd. I do understand why. The world isn't a pretty place. Tara is protected here and is living in a perfect world. That's going to change. She'll either learn it from me or the boy she has taken interest in."

"A boy, is it?" Reaver smiled.

"One of the servants, no less," Logan replied.

A laugh escaped Reaver, "Oh how droll. The boy must be the idol of many other young servants. It's not every day a commoner catches the eye of a noble."

"Reaver, I want you to be serious for a moment."

"Oh, your majesty, I'm always serious."

Logan doubted that and wanted to say as much, but held his tongue on the matter. "You seem to know what I'm facing...I want you to help me with the situation."

"Ah, a formal invitation," Reaver smiled, finally taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair. Either the wine was taking slow effect or the man was growing comfortable around Logan. "I can have some paperwork written up so this can be something more official."

"As long as I agree with the terms," Logan replied.

"Of course." Reaver grabbed the bottle of wine and poured himself a fresh glass before refilling Logan's. In any other situation that would have been an insult but the atmosphere was so relaxed that Logan didn't seem to mind. "The terms will be only slightly different then our current, unspoken ones. Let's drink to our future."

Logan raised his glass with a slight smile and, throwing proper manners aside, the two downed their respective drinks.

"Tell me you have something better than this," Reaver chuckled, gingerly tossing his glass onto the table. "An occasion like this calls for something a little harder than just wine."

"You can't be serious."

"I told you only moments ago that I'm always serious."

Logan shook his head and pushed himself away from the table. "If you insist, follow me." He led Reaver into the kitchen and motioned towards a closed door. "That is where the help keeps the alcohol. If there is anything more than wine it will be in there."

A smile spread across Reaver's face, "Marvelous!" He sauntered to the door and opened it without pausing. Logan didn't move but just watched as his guest disappeared into the room, only to reappear moments later with a bottle in hand. "This will do just fine."

"I never took you to be such a lush," Logan said.

Reaver laughed as he retrieved two glasses, "I am fond of the drink but I wouldn't say I'm a lush. When you live as long as I have one learns that two things never change: drinking and lovemaking. That and, I suppose, that money will always put you in the right."

Logan didn't reply, just watched as Reaver poured two glasses. He handed one to the King which was taken without question. _'Whiskey,'_ Logan thought as the aroma hit him. Reaver downed his portion in one mouthful and glanced at him, waiting. Logan mimicked the man's movement, knocking back the drink with ease. He wasn't much of a drinker, mainly just wine and even that was rare, so the whiskey hit him hard. Logan knew that he reacted more than he intended when Reaver let out a laugh.

"You'll get used to it," Reaver explained, pouring them both another drink.

"I'm not sure if I want to," Logan replied.

Reaver raised his glass before downing it. "Let me tell you one thing, Logan, I know you want to be a just King, and you have but I think its high time you became a little more forceful."

"What do you mean?"

"War is not pretty and if this thing, this darkness, took out some of your elite guards, Albion has a bleak future." Reaver explained. He leaned against the counter, one hand trailing over the bottle of whiskey as if contemplating pouring himself another glass. "Its high time you had a tighter grip on the people. This will be for their own good, even if they don't know it."

Logan stared at his glass, eying his reflection in the whiskey. He hated to admit it but Reaver's words rang true. Months had gone by and there was no progress. Little money was being brought in and the army he wished to amass was no where near a respectable size. Setting his mouth in a solemn line, Logan downed his drink. "You're right."

Reaver smiled, "Of course I am."

"And you're going to help me."

It wasn't a question or even a request and it made Reaver smile even wider; the King was finally taking charge. "Without question," he replied, taking a few slow steps closer to Logan. The two studied each other in silence, Reaver noting the King's guarded posture. "You should learn to relax more. Perhaps you would like another glass?"

Logan's eyes flicked down to his empty cup and he debated about taking the offer but shook his head. "I think I've had enough as it is."

"Your mother was a wonderful woman," Reaver said with the slightest of smiles. "It was a wonder that she sought my company even after I tried to take her life. Before becoming queen she bought my home, which is where I found her when I briefly returned to Albion before. Oh how happy she was to see a familiar face, even if it was mine. I tried to kill her that first night but you're mother knew me better; she was waiting for me with weapons drawn. I would have taken her there but she denied me."

"Why are you telling me this?" Logan stammered.

Once more a smile played on Reaver's lips, "To assuage your view of her and our 'relationship.' We did have secret rendezvous and I wanted nothing more than to have a go, but there was nothing more then embraces and kisses. And just when I thought I may have a chance, your father happened along and that was the end of it all. I left."

"How can I believe you?"

"Do I seem like the type of person to actively deny my escapades?"

Logan shook his head. He was growing uncomfortable with how close Reaver was and he was beginning to realize the alcohol was taking it's effect on him. "You despise my father, then?"

"No. He was the better man, especially for her. Your mother wanted more than the hot nights I was willing to give her. Settling down and raising a family just isn't in the cards for me."

"More conquests out there?"

The question brought a brazen smile to Reaver's face, one that would have raised alarms in Logan's mind had it not been hazed by their drinking. What ever distance had been between the two was gone as Reaver moved forward and crushed Logan's lips with his own. Logan let it happen, didn't bother to stop the advances as he opened his mouth to accept Reaver's probing tongue. It was when he felt the man's hands tugging at his shit that he pushed him away, face flushed and heart pounding. All Reaver did was smile, his tongue running across his lower lip.

"I think its time you left," Logan said, finally finding his voice.

Reaver didn't move for a moment, his eyes locked with Logan's. "Of course, your majesty. I'll let you know what I've gotten the paperwork ready."


	8. Chapter 8

"...You will give every ounce of strength, and you will offer your very lives if it asks for them. And even then you will never cease to be, for as long as Albion lives, then so will you live too." The servant glanced at Logan and slid the flyer across the desk and into the King's hands. "I wrote it like you said, your majesty. Am I safe to assume that all is in order?"

Logan stared at the piece, his mind swirling with the meaning behind it all. He couldn't come out and say what was looming over his head but he needed the people do as he instructed. There were already whispers about the King he was becoming and even though those whispers flared his anger, he couldn't say a word. "Yes. I want that printed and put around the Industrial District without delay."

The servant nodded and retrieved the flyer before hurrying out the door. Logan slumped in his chair and let his head fall back, closing his eyes. The past couple of weeks were starting to wear on his nerves. His sleeping habits had been anything but normal and even eating, at times, seemed to be a nuisance. To make things worse his temper around Tara was short. He was finding himself sending her away if he didn't yell at her, and it was becoming harder and harder to retain what he had once been.

"Your majesty?"

"What is it, Walter?" Logan sighed.

"Reaver is here to see you," Walter replied. "He said something about a contract."

Logan repositioned himself in his seat and looked at Walter. "Send him in."

"Actually it seems your sister has taken the opportunity to strike up a conversation with him."

"Where are they?" Logan knew his voice echoed the agitation he was feeling by Walter's reaction. He barely heard the man's response before exiting the war room. What he had hoped would have been a quick meeting with Reaver was obviously going to be something a little more drawn out.

Logan came to a stop at the top of the stairs as it opened into the castle's large entryway, his heart racing and a frown forming as he watched Reaver and Tara talk softly to each other. He couldn't see his sister's face but knew that she was upset about something. She wept in her hands, her sobs barely audible over the noise of servants and guards. It wasn't until Reaver took her in his arms that Logan felt his agitation grow into a silent rage. He should be the one his sister came to, the one to hold her and calm her.

"Reaver," Logan spat. Tara's head flew up, her eyes wide and red from tears now visible. She hurried away without saying a word to Reaver who just stared up at her brother. Logan descended the stairs, mouth set in a frown as he stood before the business man. "I believe you were told to stay away from Tara." 

"The young princess came to me, I assure you." Reaver placed his hat back atop his head before looking Logan in the eye, "Seems like young Tara isn't the happiest child in Albion."

"And I take it that she divulged her reasons to you?"

"Of course," Reaver grinned. "Why don't we continue this meeting elsewhere?"

Logan eyed the man as he brushed past him. He led Reaver back to the war room, standing beside the map of Albion. He waved away his personal guard, both of whom closed the door behind them and undoubtedly took their positions before it. Logan stared down at the map and for a moment his memories retraced his journey across the ocean and through Aurora. He had done it many times and every time he felt a pang of guilt as he stared at the unmarked territory that he had left behind.

"About my sister," Logan breathed.

Reaver nodded, "Ah yes. It seems Tara has been over hearing some less then favorable talk about you. It bothers her that its amongst the help in the castle and it seems to be getting worse, no matter how much she tries to assure them of your kind nature."

"I have no time for that," Logan frowned. He looked at Reaver, noting the rather thick parcel in his hands. "Walter said you brought the contract. You didn't have to deliver it yourself."

"Something like this couldn't be trusted in the hands of a servant." Reaver handed the item to the King and watched him carefully. He noticed the slight sour look on Logan's face as he sat behind his desk, one that seemed to grow the further he went through the contract. "Come now, such a look is unbecoming of a man in your position."

Logan tossed the contract onto the table, "What this suggests is that you have complete control over the industrial district."

"Such as it is."

"I won't allow it. You already have more power than the average citizen, I will not let you take part of it like a warlord."

Reaver smiled, "I'm a staunch business man, your majesty, and I am willing to negotiate."

Logan leaned back in his seat, fingers steepled as he met Reaver's gaze. He let a soft chuckle escape him which seemed to catch the other man off guard. "So quick to agree to negotiations. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had this planned all along."

"Business is my lively hood, your majesty," Reaver grinned. "It would be bad form not to have a backup plan."

"I suppose that it is true. What are your negotiations?"

Reaver reached into the inner breast pocket of his coat and pulled out another packet, this one much thinner. He handed it to Logan with a smile and said nothing as the man flipped through it. When the King's expression remained still, Reaver knew that all had fallen into place. "Shall I assume that this is more to your liking?"

"Yes." Logan paused as he looked at the contract. It was appeasing, there was no doubt about that, but he still felt uneasy. No, it wasn't the fact that he was entering a business relationship with such a person but what it would mean for the people. Unrest was growing, he knew that. With the laws that he was going to put in place within the next few weeks that unrest would only grow.

"Something on your mind?"

Logan glanced at Reaver, "Not quite. You know about the gala that is held here every year?"

"Who doesn't?"

"I will have an invitation sent to you. It's up to you whether or not you join us, but I think Tara would find your company appealing."

"And you?"

"What I think is none of your concern."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Just an FYI, there is gonna be some what of time jump in the next bit. I never really set up an exact 'time' for the goings on in this story before the events in the game, but I do wish to get to those events. :P Consider it like the end of the game when you're preparing for the battle: one year went by so fast. Same goes here.

* * *

There was talk of rebellion. Logan knew it was inevitable but the dread he felt was bothering none the less. He had his guard in the streets, keeping watch, and even spies amongst groups that proved suspicious. Much to Logan's surprise Reaver began to provide him with vital information: the leader's name and a description. With that in place Logan set his guards on the lookout for the woman named Page. It benefited the business man, as did most things he brought to the King's attention; with guards tracking down the woman her interaction with his factories began to decline.

Despite the growing troubles, the castle's gala commenced and the garden was decorated with hanging lamps. Logan heard the angry whispers of the servants but ignored them in an attempt to have some sense of normality in the world. The laws he had put in place was rubbing people, more so those of the lower class, the wrong way. He told himself there was nothing he could do about it. He picked the options that seemed less cruel but could provide the kingdom with the money it needed. Even with his careful planning the treasury gave Albion a bleak outlook.

Tara was smiling; she was enjoying herself. This, above all else, seemed to ease Logan's nerves. Guests seemed to flock to her and for the first time she seemed to enjoy it. She was the star of the evening, the budding youth and the daughter of the mighty Hero Queen. Logan took the opportunity to disappear amongst the shadows of the castle's gardens, slipping towards his parents' tomb.

Logan stared at the mausoleum, wishing desperately that either of his parents were still alive. They would know what to. Both would know how to fix this and his mother had the courage to face _it_ face on. '_If only I had a fraction of her power_,' Logan thought. With a lowered head he moved slowly towards the low wall that overlooked the city. He leaned against the stone and stared at the city below, noting the lights in the houses and the ships bobbing in the harbor. So peaceful.

"Is this a habit of yours?"

Logan glanced over his shoulder. It was of little surprise to find Reaver standing behind him, cane in hand and smile on his face. Logan ignored the question and looked back over the city.

"Why throw a party if you're not going to be part of it?"

"It's called tradition, Reaver. I suppose I was hoping it was going to bring some sense of normality back in my life," Logan replied. He straightened his posture as Reaver sidled up beside him. "I will say that I'm surprised that you're not mingling with the crowd."

Reaver shrugged, following Logan's gaze over the city. "I had to greet the host; tradition, mind you."

Logan couldn't help but smile at the comment, "Have you seen my sister?"

"Briefly. She seems to be quite the social butterfly tonight." Reaver chuckled, "And I think I may have spotted that boy of hers. Mooning about and not doing a proper job of serving guests."

"Yes," Logan murmured. "Elliot seems to be less than satisfactory in his duties whenever Tara is around. If it wouldn't break her heart I'd fire him."

Reaver turned to Logan, leaning against the stonework as he did so. "I must congratulate you on some of your new laws. Increasing the guard, a limit on drinking, and altering taxes; not many in your position would do so."

Logan pursed his lips, "My position as king, yes, but anyone who have to defend every soul in this kingdom, I think they would have very little choice."

"Perhaps. I would like to suggest an addition to our city. One that could bring in a nice lot of money."

"And what would that be?"

"A brothel."

Logan gave Reaver a wide-eyed stare, "What?"

Reaver cocked an eyebrow. "Did I stutter? A brothel, a whore house, a house of ill repute. Whatever name you give it, it's still the same."

"I get the point, Reaver, and my answer is no. There is no reason for such a place to be housed within this city." Logan snapped. "From what my guards tell me there are already whores on the street. I do not want to encourage more of them by opening such a place."

"And what if people like myself want one?"

Logan frowned, "People like yourself seem to have no issue finding willing partners. I highly doubt someone would find within the halls of a brothel."

"It appears you think rather highly of me," Reaver grinned. "When I was younger I was no stranger to such places. I could see to it that it's appealing."

"My answer remains the same."

"What a pity," Reaver sighed. "Tell me; how have you been since last I saw you?"

Logan stared blankly at the business man. "As well as one in my position can be."

Reaver frowned slightly, "You seem surprised by my question."

"I am. You're usually not the person to wonder about someone else's well being."

"You, Logan, are the one behind my power and hold in the industrial district." Reaver reached out, his fingers grazing across Logan's cheek before his hand came to rest on the king's shoulder, "Without you, I would be powerless in this city once more. That means your well being is my concern."

Logan narrowed his eyes, "I don't know whether I should feel flattered or threatened."

"Pick which ever makes you feel better."

"Around you I'm not sure exactly what makes me feel better."

Reaver smiled and stepped forward, his hand slowly gripping Logan's shoulder. He locked eyes with the king, "I want you to know one thing, Logan; if you ever try to remove me from my seat of power, you will be lucky if you can make it out of Bowerstone alive."

Logan held Reaver's gaze, knowing full well that any show of nerves would mean that he had the upper hand. "You doubt my fighting prowess?"

"I suppose you can say that."

"And am I to assume that threatening members of this family is a tradition of yours?"

"Only the ones that I like," Reaver said softly. He knew Logan was timid. If memory served him right, the last time they had been so close alcohol had been involved. Reaver kept his grip steady on Logan's shoulder as he leaned forward and kissed the king. This was different; it was tender in a way and it was all calculated. Reaver wanted this, wanted Logan, and he knew he had to play his cards just so. He had a feeling that another opportunity to cavort with a member of that family would never happen again.

Reaver felt Logan move and expected to be pushed away, perhaps even punched this time. Instead he felt the King's hand slide to the nape of his neck, fingers reaching into his hair. The kiss deepened as Logan took the initiative, trailing his tongue against Reaver's lower lip until they parted. Reaver's hands moved as well, no longer gripping the man's shoulder but slipping to his waist. Both ignored the sound of Reaver's cane clattering to the ground and the worry of being caught.

Pressing their bodies together Reaver slowly repositioned himself and, in turn, Logan. The King now felt the stone railing of the low wall digging into his lower back but he shrugged off the feeling. He focused on the sensations of Reaver's touch. The business man whispered something to him and Logan could feel the smile on the man's mouth. Logan ignored the man's words, instead loosing himself in the feeling of Reaver's tongue as it trailed across his neck, his lips kissing the tender flesh and trying to illicit some sound from Logan. Reaver's fingers dug into his hips in some vain effort to bring them closer together.

"Brother?"

Logan's eyes flashed open, his heart sinking as Tara stood a few yards away. He could feel the soft chuckle that Reaver gave off moments before pushing him away. "Wh-what is it Tara?" Even in the shadows Logan could see the embarrassed blush on his sister's face and could only assume he was mirroring it.

"The guests are asking for you," Tara replied, averting her gaze.

"Tell them I'll join them in a moment." Logan ran a hand through his hair as he watched Tara hurry away. There was no telling if she realized who he had been with, and there was no doubt she knew what was happening. "I can't believe this," he murmured.

Reaver straightened his clothes before scooping up his cane. He glanced at Logan, "And what would that be?"

Logan frowned, "That I allowed that to happen, especially here."

"It couldn't be helped," Reaver replied with a brash smile. He ignored the glare that Logan shot him, preferring to stare at the crowd as they moved in the lamp light of the party. "Even though your sister looks a lot like your mother, I don't think you have to worry too much about my involvement with her."

"And why is that?"

"You have something akin your mother's personality, especially in regards towards me."

Logan sighed, "I don't know what you mean. My mother was a kind, just woman. While I don't know how she acted around you, she never raised her voice to Tara and I."

"Did your mother ever tell you about her time in the Spire?"

"_In_ the Spire? I thought only-"

Reaver laughed, "That daft woman Theresa was the only woman allowed there? Maybe now, but your mother spent roughly 10 years imprisoned there."

"And how do you know this," Logan asked.

"One of your mother's companions told me, seeing how he spent some years locked away as well," Reaver replied. "The time spent in the Spire changed your mother; she was apparently rather ruthless and cold after the fact. I didn't know her before that but your mother seemed to 'go back to normal' once she met your father. She was no longer the Sparrow I knew."

Logan pursed his lips; there was nothing mentioned in his mother's journal about the Spire. "What exactly happened to her?"

"That will have to wait until later, your majesty," Reaver grinned. "For now, you have some guests to attend to."


	10. Chapter 10

It was a surprise, that was the point of the inspection, and Logan could understand the anger that seemed thinly veiled in Reaver's voice. There had been complaints about the work environment in Reaver's factories; both verbal and written complaints had been filed multiple times. Logan had originally chosen to ignore them, wishing only to focus on the coming war. Walter, the ever present voice of reason, suggested he check it out. It may be nothing but if there was a problem it should be solved and quickly.

Much to Logan relief there appeared to be no obvious problems. He made a mental note that he would have to hire some people to do this the next time a complaint was issued. The one thing that Logan had noticed, though, was the feeling in the air. Things almost felt charged as he walked past the workers. He could feel their eyes on him and heard whispers behind his back. Try as he might he could never hear the words. The sensation that was rising in his stomach, though, was all too familiar.

Logan caught movement out of the corner of his eye and by the time he turned it was nearly too late. One of the workers had launched himself over the conveyer belt that had separated them, his dirty hand held high. Logan noticed something in that hand glisten and realized what it was. His guards weren't fast enough and for all his worth, Logan couldn't get himself to move. Fear and the need to survive screamed in his mind, yet a small part of him welcomed the chance to have some relief.

The sound of a gunshot rang through the factory and the man let out scream. The guards that had seemed too slow to act pulled Logan out of the way as the worker fell to the ground, knife clattering to the ground. Logan stared down at his attacker and noticed the blood soaking into the man's shirt.

"Well, that was unfortunate." Reaver came to a stop beside Logan, a slightly annoyed look on his face as he holstered his pistol. "I was beginning to think he was one of my better employees."

Logan seized Reaver by the collar of his jacket, catching the man by surprise. "I wish to speak with you in your office." He didn't wait for a response and by the look on Reaver's face he knew he didn't have to. The business man quickly led Logan towards his office, neither one saying a word as the anger seemed come off Logan in waves. Logan glanced at his guards, "See to it that no one interrupts us."

Reaver leaned against his desk, placing his cane beside him as he watched Logan. He waited for the door to close and waited still for the anger on the King's face to be voiced. Yet there was nothing. "Is something wrong, your majesty?"

"Don't patronize me," Logan spat. "Tell me, Reaver, why are you employing people who obviously want me dead?"

"I assure you I didn't know the man's political standing when he was placed at a machine," Reaver replied with a slight frown. "And is this any way to thank me for saving your life?"

Logan closed the gap between the two, seizing the man and noting that this time Reaver did not flinch. "The only reason you keep me alive is for your own financial benefit. If I had any inkling of your ways before I would have never made this deal with you."

"Such harsh words," Reaver said with a slight pout. "For your information I saved you because, not only are you King of Albion, but I like you."

It was a mixture of the wounded tone in Reaver's voice and the expression on his face that caught Logan off guard. For the first time he had no doubt there was genuine feeling behind those words. He let go of the man and took a step back, "You never cease to amaze me."

The pout on Reaver's face turned into a soft smile, "Let's keep that record going, shall we? There are a few other things that I could show you, if you'd like." He reached out and caressed Logan's cheek, his thumb running over the scar on the man's lips. "You already saw to it that no one will interfere. We could continue what was started at that gala of yours."

Logan turned his head, ceasing the affection and calming himself. He locked eyes with Reaver, "Would you be partial to having dinner at the palace?"

"Of course not," Reaver replied with a grin. "I take it that your sister wants my company?"

"No; I do."

/ / / / / /

Whether or not Tara remembered what had happened during the gala, or realized that it was Reaver with Logan, she didn't seem to show it. The surprise of Reaver arriving was written on her face and she soon became animated once more. It brought joy into Logan's life to hear Tara laugh once more, seeing how she was starting to be rather cautious around him. His temper was growing shorter and shorter, and the worry of losing Albion was taking its effects in obvious ways.

Much to Logan's dismay Reaver recounted what had happened in his factory. What was originally a threat on Logan's life quickly became a tale of how Reaver seemed to save the day. Tara thanked him; she couldn't live without her brother. She took the story as the reason for Reaver's surprising arrival. Anyone that saved the King's life was to be thanked properly.

Before long Tara excused herself and retreated to her room. Logan eyed Reaver; it wasn't long before he suggested they find somewhere else to talk. A knowing smile passed over the business man's lips. As he followed Logan, Reaver grabbed the unopened bottle of wine and the untouched glasses. He had a hunch where things were going but, if all else failed they could have a few drinks to pass the time.

Reaver followed Logan through the castle's halls, both silent and seeming to ignore the guards saluting and the hired help bowing as they passed. He had expected to be taken to the war room but Reaver soon found himself standing in a bedroom. With a smile on his face he turned and watched Logan close the door behind them.

"Wipe that grin off your face," Logan snapped.

"Oh come now," Reaver chuckled. "Not only did you say that you were the one that wanted my company, but you lead me to your room. How am I supposed to take this?"

Logan pursed his lips before brushing past the business man, "I would suggest you not get your hopes up, Reaver. The invitation was only to talk."

Reaver laughed; Logan was a horrible liar. He moved to the small table that sat before the unused hearth and placed the bottle of wine and its accompanying glasses on it. "Those other times started out with us 'only talking.' Why deny the reasons any longer?"

There was no denying the truth in that statement. Logan let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Something like this isn't easy for me."

"I wouldn't expect it to be any other way," Reaver smiled. "Why don't we have a drink, just to ease this tension?"

Logan waited for Reaver to open the bottle of wine before slowly walking towards him. The smile was still on the man's face, his eyes turning to watch him rather than pay attention to the wine he was pouring. He felt like he had followed the lead which Reaver had set out but it didn't seem to matter at that moment. Reaver had sounded genuine when he said he cared for him, and that is what Logan focused on.

"Here you are." Reaver handed a glass to Logan before taking his own.

The thought of drinking didn't please Logan. He watched Reaver tip back his own glass and starred at his own. Logan did nothing more than wet his lips, masking the fact by turning away and putting his glass down. No amount of drinking would be able to calm his nerves by this point.

A soft chuckle caught Logan's attention and he turned back to Reaver. "What?"

"Just wondering if this is how you would treat a woman," Reaver laughed. "You give no conversation, no compliments, nothing."

"Here I thought you wouldn't need such things to be in the proper mood," Logan countered.

Reaver set his glass down and slowly approached Logan. "Too true," he replied. "I suppose these things could be ignored."

Logan's breath caught in his throat as Reaver reached up and caressed his cheek, his thumb once more trailing over his lips. His kneejerk response was to pull away but he stopped himself; he had brought this on himself. The apprehension that was welling inside him seemed to ease as Logan noticed the soft smile on Reaver's face and an almost tender look in the man's eye. This was not the man he had seen so many times before.

Logan tasted the wine on Reaver's lips as they kissed, savoring it as he welcomed the man's tongue into his mouth. He could feel Reaver's arm slip around his waist, bringing their bodies together as his other hand rested on the nape of his neck to dissuade any notion of pulling away. Logan draped his arms over the man's shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair.

Reaver trailed the kisses away from Logan's gasping mouth until he found the tender flesh of the man's neck. He could feel Logan's body tense and heard the hiss of a sudden breath as he ran his tongue across an obviously sensitive area. Those feather kisses continued, teeth scraping ever so softly over that same tender flesh. Reaver suddenly nipped at the flesh where the shoulder met the neck, albeit harder than he had intended due the man's shirt. Logan let out a pleasure filled cry, his hold on Reaver's hair tightening until a moan escaped from the man as well.

As Reaver pulled away Logan spotted the smile playing on the man's face. He released his grip on Reaver's hair and rubbed the area where he was bitten. There was a dull pain emanating from the spot. "If I didn't know better I think you intended to leave a bruise."

"My apologies," Reaver chuckled as he moved towards Logan's bed, "but with me, someone always leaves with 'battle scars'."

"And I take it that someone is going to be me?"

Another soft laugh escaped Reaver, one hand reaching up to rub the area where Logan's grip had tightened. "I'm not too sure this time." He stared at the bed, a smile tugging at his lips; more than enough room for two bodies. "Come, I think its due time we got a little more comfortable."

Logan watched as Reaver removed his vest, letting it fall to the floor before he slipped his shirt off. He glanced at the King and smiled once more. Logan could feel himself blush as he drew closer to his companion. Reaver seemed to notice the nervous movements and cautious glances.

"Nervous?" Reaver said softly.

"You don't have to make this any more difficult," Logan replied. He had never seen Reaver do anything more than strut around and proclaim superiority over those he met, but he noticed that he was in shape. The man did something to keep himself in perfect physical condition and Logan didn't know if he wanted to hear the answer to such a question.

"Shall I help you?"

Logan had no time to respond before Reaver's hands were slowly unbuttoning his shirt, tugging at it slightly to pull the ends free. Those fingers ran over his chest and down his arms until the garment fell to the floor. A shudder ran through Logan's body as he felt those fingers trail across his muscles, outlining the scars that harbored so many memories. Reaver caressed him, wrapping his arm around Logan's waist as his free hand continued to explore the naked flesh.

"Seems like I did bite rather hard," Reaver mused, his fingers grazing over the reddening spot. "I'll make sure these things are easily covered up."

Reaver pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes half-lidded as he stared at Logan who shifted nervously under that very stare. Running his tongue over his lower lip as Reaver held out his hand and pulled Albion's King on to his lap. The raven-haired King straddled him, pressing his lips against Reaver's as it became apparent that he wanted this to happen. They were going beyond the point of stopping. Both were feeling the heat of the moment and their bodies were already reacting on their own.

Logan let himself be lowered to the bed, enjoying the weight of Reaver's body over him. He didn't fight against Reaver as the man took hold of his wrists and pinned his hands over his head. Those lips moved away from his own and Logan tipped his head, exposing his neck. His breathing hitched as he felt Reaver's tongue and teeth against his skin, softer this time but enough to draw a whimper from Logan. He found himself wanting to touch the other man and as he strained against Reaver's hands he felt them tighten slowly.

Again those lips began to wander and Reaver's hold on Logan's wrists finally left. Kisses were trailed away from his neck, lips brushing against his jaw as those fingers once more explored the scar riddled chest. Logan arched his back, his heart racing as Reaver's head dipped lower. He tangled his fingers in the man's hair and resisted the urge to pull his lips back to his own. No; Reaver knew what he was doing and what it was doing to Logan in return.

"Don't stop," Logan breathed.

That was all Reaver needed to hear.


	11. Chapter 11

The sound of voices and movement outside his chambers roused Logan. He stared at the ceiling, fully aware of what had happened the night before and the presence of Reaver still beside him. There would be no easy way to explain it, no quick and simple lie to smooth things over. The more he thought about it the more Logan realized that he had no reason to explain his actions. He was King and he could let whomever he wished join him in his room.

Even though he was expecting it, the knock at the door caused Logan to jump. "Yes?" The door opened slowly and Elliot cautiously slipped into the room, obviously nervous as he spied his employer lying in bed. Logan cursed beneath his breath and sat upright. "What is it?"

Elliot cleared his throat, "I am here to inform you that breakfast will be ready shortly."

Logan smoothed his hair as best he could, muttering beneath his breath. He noticed that Elliot was trying his hardest to avoid looking at him. It took him a moment realize exactly why: it was a mixture of him being shirtless and the obvious sleeping body in the bed beside him. While Logan wasn't fond of the boy it was good to know he was sharp.

"Make sure there is an extra seat at the table."

"I-I beg your pardon?" Elliot stammered, eyes snapping back to the King's face.

Logan sighed, "I don't like to repeat myself, Elliot. A guest will be dinning with us, see to it that there is a seat for them." He watched the young servant nod quickly and leave without uttering another word, the door shutting soundlessly behind him. With a sigh Logan stared at the door, mouth drawn tight as his mind wandered.

"My, my; you seem rather troubled this morning."

Logan glanced at Reaver as the man sat up, stretching with a smile. "As I should be," he replied. "Not only did that boy notice another body in my bed, but when he finds out it was you there will be no doubt what happened."

The smile widened over Reaver's face, "You still seem stressed even after last night. I don't think I have ever met a person wound so tight."

Cursing beneath his breath, Logan left the bed in search of clothes for the day. He ignored his guest and the comments the man made while changing. Logan jumped as he felt Reaver's body behind him, pausing as the older man wrapped an arm around his waist. "We have no time-"

"What else is on your mind, Logan?" Reaver's voice carried a serious tone with it. It seemed like he was genuinely concerned, or at least intrigued, with the King's problems.

Logan let his head fall back as he let out a sigh. "Everything; the threat, the kingdom, you, and, above all else, my sister." He turned as he felt Reaver's arm slip away from him, watching the business man retrieve his clothes. "It makes me wonder how my mother ruled without losing her mind."

"She was a hardened woman," Reaver replied, "ruling during a peaceful time. It was thanks to your father, as well as you and the princess, that turned her into what you knew."

"Are you telling me that if my father hadn't caught her eye, my mother would have been a harsh queen?"

Reaver shrugged as he tightened the belt on his pants, "One will never know." He sat on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his black hair in an attempt to tame it. Reaver eyed the King as he seemed to lose himself in thought, watching the lines of worry and anger etch themselves into his face. There was still much he hadn't divulged but what wasn't spoken Reaver had ways of finding. "Would you kindly hand me my boots? They're around here somewhere."

Logan glanced at Reaver, annoyance flashing in his eyes as he retrieved the man's shoes.

"You surprised me last night, your majesty."

"And how was that?"

"You can be rather passionate when you want to be." Reaver chuckled at the slight blush that appeared in Logan's cheeks as he took hold of the King's wrist, "And let me say, a ruler needs passion."

"I'm sorry to barge in like this, brother, but-"

Logan looked towards the door and felt his stomach tighten as he pulled his wrist out of Reaver's grasp, the man's boots tumbling into his lap. Tara's eyes were wide while her face seemed to change into various shades of red. She averted her gaze, turning her body slightly and staring at the floor.

"E-excuse me," Tara stammered.

Reaver cocked an eyebrow, "Why is the poor thing embarrassed?"

Pursing his lips together Logan quickly found the business man's shirt and held it out. "Dress yourself," he hissed.

"My apologies, princess," Reaver replied.

Tara shook her head quickly, her eyes still fixated on the floor. "I was just told that we were having a guest for breakfast, and I hadn't heard anyone announced nor had you mentioned it." She glanced at her brother and Reaver, her face still scarlet even though the business man was fully dressed. "I-I hadn't expected to find Reaver in your room."

Logan began to respond, blushing himself, but it was Reaver who spoke first. "Your brother and I stayed up rather late last night talking business and, sadly to say, drinking a little much. I would have been more than happy leaving but your brother insisted that I stay. He was even kind enough to let me sleep in his room."

"Really," Tara asked.

"Yes," Logan replied with a sigh. The man had given him an opportunity to shake off any of his sister's curiosities, he might as well use it. "You've heard rumors of bandits on the roads during the night, Tara. I couldn't sleep easy with that on my mind, even if it is Reaver."

A bright smile laid waste to the nervous and embarrassed expression Tara wore. She rushed to Logan and threw her arms around him, "I knew you hadn't changed."

Those words seemed to hit Logan like a blow to the stomach. He looked down at his sister, happy that she wasn't looking back and seeing the mixed expressions on his face. He returned the embrace, hesitantly, resting his cheek on Tara's head. It was hard for him to believe that her faith in him had wavered.

Reaver met his gaze, dark eyes shifting from a sympathetic look to one of annoyance. He masked it quickly as he cleared his throat and caught Tara's attention. "Why don't you run ahead, princess. Your brother and I will be down quickly."

The princess made no attempt to argue or try and stay, rather she embraced her brother tighter and kissed his cheek before hurrying out of the room. Reaver pushed himself to his feet, coming to Logan's side as the young King cradled his head in his hands. Neither said a word, Reaver letting the younger man settle his emotions the best he could with the dignity he deserved.

"It won't get easier," Reaver finally said, "so you might as well come to terms with this and move on."

Logan raised his head, composing himself the best he could before looking at Reaver, "What do you mean?"

Reaver sighed, "How much of my past did Sparrow write down in that journal of hers?"

"How she met you and the fact that not only did you try and receive the bounty on her head but gave her to that Shadow Court."

"Nothing more?"

"Was there more?"

The smile Reaver flashed seemed to lack its usual flare but he turned away quickly to finish dressing himself properly.

"Reaver, was there more?"

"Yes but I think you've had enough of plays on emotion for one morning."

"There's something you're not telling me."

"Oh, there is much I'm not telling you," Reaver laughed. "If you play nice, though, I will be more than happy to tell you every tasty bit of my life."

* * *

A/N: So very sorry about such long intervals between these two chapters. As I have told someone, life and a horrible bout of writer's block decided to plague me but I have kicked the block away and put things in order. Thank you for waiting and reading, and I promise more is on the way quickly!


	12. Chapter 12

"I want you to focus on teaching Tara how to properly defend herself." Logan noticed Walter's surprised expression out of the corner of his eye, but the man remained silent. He walked around the map of Albion. Logan found his vision straying from the unmarked lands where that darkness was housed. Whenever he looked at it, even for a moment, it seemed liked that damned Seer's vision crept back to him. "I would also like her to know how the kingdom is run. Whether those lessons come from you or-"

"Wouldn't it be better if you showed the princess how to manage the kingdom?"

Logan looked up from the map, "I don't have time for that, Walter."

The man frowned slightly as his grip on the papers he held tightened. "With all due respect, Logan, your relationship with your sister is being strained. I know something is wrong and if you would let me know-"

"No!" Logan's voice thundered through the war room, echoed by the sound of his hand slamming into the wooden table that held the map of Albion. Pain lanced through his arm as he pulled away. He tried to mask the pain that must have been on his face, turning sharply, but he noticed Walter's worry. "Put the papers down and leave."

"But your hand."

"I said leave!"

Walter said nothing more, the worried look on his face darkening into one mixed with anger as he slapped the papers down. He left in much the same way and Logan knew a cloud of irritation was going to loom of the man's head much of the day. Logan walked around the map, flexing his injured hand as he retrieved the packet Walter had left. In the hall he could hear the older man say something lost through the walls and a reply from someone else that was lost as well.

"Seems like it's another lively day in the life of royals."

Logan glanced up at the sound of a familiar voice. Reaver stood in the doorway, dressed in his best traveling clothes. It wasn't the clothing, though, that caused Logan to ignore the pressing matters that lay in the papers; it was the way Reaver looked. He skin seemed ashen and the eyes that had always seemed to glint with some mischievous intent seemed to verge on dulling to the point of unrecognizable. Even the man's hair appeared to have lost its luster and he had taken to trying his damndest to hide it beneath a hat.

"You look like hell."

Reaver feigned a jovial smile as he made his way deeper into the room. "And you wonder why you haven't found the right lady."

Logan ignored the comment, "I wasn't expecting you until later in the week, Reaver."

"I'm not here on business per se, majesty. I am taking a little jaunt out of the city for a few days and was wondering what I could do to convince you to join me."

"Join you?" Logan shook his head and retreated deeper into the war room, ignoring the fact that Reaver was trailing right behind him. "I have pressing matters, Reaver. We can't all just drop our responsibilities to wander off for a few days of fun." As he turned to tell the business man to leave the papers were promptly snatched from his grasp and thrown into the air. "Reaver!"

Those dulled eyes surged with fury. "This is not something I take lightly nor would I consider it fun. If you must, look at it as a way to getting to know your business partner better."

Logan stared at Reaver, knowing that his own stare matched the man's anger. "And what am I to tell Walter? What about Tara? This whole mess is-"

"Tell them what ever makes you feel better, but either way I am expecting you in my carriage in fifteen minutes."

Even if Reaver had stayed in the room, there was no point in responding. Logan stood amongst the fallen papers and fought the urge to cry out in rage. Reaver had him in a stranglehold. What had started out as an equal partnership had mutated and now he was nothing more than a plaything and a way to increase wealth. As much as he wished he could end their agreement Logan knew that Reaver was needed. Without the man's help there would be no army and no way to save Albion.

* * *

Logan made an excuse. There was some matters he had to take care of, things that had been brought to his attention that needed to be tended to right away. He had a few things packed for the trip; clothes, some money, and a weapon or two. Logan avoided both Walter and Tara. He didn't want to see either of them. Not out of anger but out of shame; he had fallen so far.

"Tell Tara that I love her."

Jasper cocked an eyebrow, "You make it sound like you're not returning, sir."

Logan didn't respond. He had every intention of returning but he needed Tara to know that he did care for her. He turned away from Jasper, who said nothing more than words of safe travel. Reaver was standing beside his carriage, directing one of the servants as they placed his small bag amongst those already there. It caused Logan to pause. There was more than Reaver's share of items.

"Happy to see you made it so quickly," Reaver smiled. It shocked Logan to watch the business man open the carriage door and motion for him to enter. "Please, majesty, after you."

Offering no words of thanks Logan slipped into the carriage. It was the sound of a muffled gasp that caused him to pause. A young woman was sitting beside the other door, eyes wide in awe and cheeks flushed as she stared at him. Logan felt himself grow warm with embarrassment as he sat across from her. The young woman averted her stare, seeming to taken a sudden interest in the stitching of her gown. This gave Logan a moment of comfort in studying her. She was young, perhaps a few years older than Tara, and obviously from a wealthy family. She wore a necklace probably worth more than a few months wage for the average worker and the dress she wore was made from the finest materials the city had to offer.

Reaver slipped in beside the girl, producing one of his usual smiles for the girl as the carriage door was closed behind him. Within moments the carriage lurched forward and their journey was beginning.

The young woman leaned close to Reaver, her eyes flicking to Logan as the blush in her cheeks deepened. "You didn't tell me. . . ."

"That would have ruined the surprise, wouldn't it," Reaver replied. He stroked her cheek with a gloved hand which elicited a giggle from the girl. "Logan, I would like to introduce you to our traveling companion, Vanessa."

"It is an honor to meet you, your majesty."

All Logan could do was nod in response. He remained silent for most of that day, listening to Reaver extol his journeys through the country and beyond the borders to Vanessa. The young woman was enamored and didn't seem to Reaver's change in appearance. All that seemed to matter was the fact that she was in the presence of not only Reaver but the King as well.

Logan hated to admit that he felt both a pang of anger and jealousy. Anger in the fact that he felt like he had been led into this situation. He didn't know what was going to happen or what Reaver had in store for the young lady and himself. With him, one could never truly be sure. The jealousy, though, was something that put a sour taste in his mouth. He watched Reaver dote over the girl; complimenting her and, as night fell, giving her small glasses of wine. She seemed little worried over the man's wandering hands, though it appeared Reaver was behaving himself.

The wine seemed to take its toll on Vanessa and soon she was sleeping, her head propped against Reaver. He seemed to heave an annoyed sigh when it finally happened and slowly moved away, letting her take up one side of the carriage. "You've been awfully silent," Reaver whispered as he sat beside Logan. "Not enjoying yourself?"

"Obviously not as much as you."

Reaver smiled slightly, "I'm making sure the darling is comfortable and happy."

"For what I'm a little worried."

"It's not what you're thinking, I can truthfully say that."

Logan looked at Reaver through narrowed eyes, "Then what's going on?"

"The dear wanted to see more of the country. I told her there was an interesting place in Wraithmarsh that I could show her. Lucky for me, she was more than happy to see it."


	13. Chapter 13

Wraithmarsh. That word had plagued Logan's mind ever since Reaver had uttered. The man knew that he had read his mother's secret diary, where Wraithmarsh had been explained. Logan didn't protest to what Reaver was going to do. Rather his thoughts raced with scenarios of what to do if Reaver tried to send him in as well. Whether or not he was to sacrifice himself was out of the question but he wanted no part of what Reaver was doing.

They had slept in the carriage, the driver seeming to need little rest themselves. By day break Logan noticed they had stopped and he was left alone. He felt his stomach knot itself; they couldn't be in Wraithmarsh just yet. With a shaking hand he pushed open the carriage do and walked, blinking into the morning light.

"Ah, you're awake!" Logan turned to voice, squinting in an attempt to make his eyes adjust to the light. He found Reaver and Vanessa sitting on a blanket a few yards away, the young woman pulling food out of a basket. "We were beginning to wonder what would wake you." Reaver still looked worse for wear, his colors almost dulled by the bright grass surrounding him.

Vanessa pushed herself to her feet, face flushed as she smoothed her dress and curtsied. "Y-your majesty."

Logan nodded to the girl, stretching his arms as he approached the duo. His body ached from sleeping in such a cramped area. "A picnic so early?"

"We do need to eat, majesty," Reaver chuckled, "and our beautiful young friend here insisted that we take a break from the carriage."

"I think a good stretch was in order," Vanessa replied, taking a seat beside Reaver. "That and eating in a carriage can be rather messy."

"Indeed it can." Reaver took a plate and held it up with a knowing smile, "Come, Logan, I think some food will calm your obviously harried nerves."

A frown tugged at Logan's lips but he masked it as he took the offered food. Vanessa led the conversation with Reaver picking up the slack when Logan seemed to have little interest. They ate slowly and soon their meal was finished, but none seemed to noticed. Logan was drawn into the idle conversation and Reaver led him along, leaving Vanessa to listen like an enraptured child.

The morning faded through the conversation and stories. Before long the driver, an yet unnamed red haired man, approached with another basket of food. Reaver stood to meet him, taking the basket and saying something to the man. Logan strained to hear it but Vanessa's voice drowned out what the two said.

"Looks like we've talked the morning away. Luckily we have some more to eat," Reaver smiled.

"Oh dear," Vanessa giggled. "I didn't realize we had been talking so much."

Reaver sat beside Vanessa once more, "We've been enjoying ourselves, so no matter. Besides, Wraithmarsh won't be going anywhere."

Vanessa turned her attention to Logan once more. "Surely you've seen more interesting things than Wraithmarsh, your majesty. Why did you decide to join us?"

"My mother spoke of the area when I was younger," Logan replied, catching Reaver's eye. "When Reaver mentioned traveling out here I couldn't help but come along."

"It sounds like you regret the King's attendance in our little journey," Reaver laughed.

"Oh no! It's nothing like that, I swear!" Vanessa stammered.

Logan smiled slightly, "Don't tease the girl."

"I wouldn't dare." Reaver dipped his hand into the basket and pulled out a bottle of wine. "Let's drink to new adventures, and friendships."

"Isn't it a little-"

Reaver glanced at Logan, "Live a little, majesty. A bit of early drinking never hurt anyone." There was little Logan could do to persuade Reaver otherwise, watching in surprise as Vanessa eagerly retrieved a trio of glasses from the basket. "In fact, I think it makes you a little more interesting."

"Here you are, your majesty," Vanessa said, presenting the glass of wine with a new found blush in her cheeks.

Logan muttered a thank you, taking a quick drink as he watched Vanessa do the same. They continued to chat between sips but food never seemed to be brought forward. As the hour wore on and their glasses seemed to remain filled, Logan finally noticed that Reaver's glass had yet to be filled.

Vanessa let out a soft yawn, "Why do I always get so sleepy when I drink wine?"

"You'll grow out of it, my dear," Reaver smiled as he retrieved the glass from the girl's drooping hand. "Rest your eyes. I'll see to it that you're taken safe back to the carriage."

Logan watched Vanessa as she lay on the ground, eyes quickly drifting shut. He felt a yawn escape him and dread quickly followed. "You haven't been drinking," he muttered.

Reaver cocked an eyebrow and raised his glass. Before it could meet his lips he emptied it onto the grass. "You shouldn't worry yourself about these things."

"What did you put in the wine?"

"Go to sleep, Logan."

* * *

Logan fought the urge to close his eyes but knew his body was losing the battle against the induced slumber. He felt the glass slip of his hand before he went limp. Reaver passed within his blurring vision with a strange satisfied look on his face. He could hear him say something but the words were lost to oncoming sleep.

Logan woke with a start. His head was pounding and he had the faintest memory of Theresa's voice in his mind. '_A dream_.' The smell in the air was stale and the blankets, not earth like he remembered, was unfamiliar. Logan propped himself up on his elbows and let his eyes take in the room around him. A chair and its companion table were covered to keep dust away and the bookshelves that lined the wall were empty; the place was old and hadn't seen people in many years. This place was completely alien to him.

Try as he might, Logan found fear raging in his mind as his legs seemed to refuse to move. "Reaver!" Anger was evident in his voice as he yelled the man's name. He could hear frantic scrambling from a neighboring room and hurried footsteps trailing closer. His anger must have been written on his face as the nameless redhead stepped into the room, adjusting his clothes. "Who are you and where the hell am I?"

"The name is Barry Hatch, your majesty," the man replied, "and you are currently in Bloodstone."

"Bloodstone?" Logan let himself fall back against the bed. "How in the world did we. . . . No, it doesn't matter. Where is Reaver?"

Barry smoothed his hair before standing straight, "Master Reaver is taking care of some personal business. He told me to look after you and make sure you are comfortable whenever you woke up."

Logan lay an arm over his eyes and clenched his jaw, "How long have I been asleep?"

"For nearly a day."

"Tell me, Barry, when do you expect your _master_ to return?"

"Um, he never really said as much. Just that he'd be back when he was finished."

"I should have known that bastard had property out here."

"Actually, your majesty, this property is in your mother's name."

"What?"

"Though it did belong to Master Reaver before that. He didn't think you'd mind since this manor now belongs to you." Logan heard Barry shift around nervously when he didn't respond. The redhead cleared his throat, "Was there anything else I can do for you?"

Logan sighed, "Can you tell me why I can't move my legs?"

"Ah! That is nothing more than a side effect of what we gave you! You'll be up and about soon enough!"

A new wave of anger welled inside of Logan at the matter-of-fact way Barry respond. He sat upright and the pain that blossomed down his spine only made the anger grow. "I should hang you and Reaver for this. You kidnapped Albion's king."

Barry laughed, "Kidnapped? Master Reaver said you came because you wanted to!"

Logan stared after Barry as he left, laughing and proclaiming that if he needed anything that all he had to do was shout. He didn't move. The pain was subsiding but his anger was still roiling in his mind. Minutes passed, perhaps even hours as there were now clocks or windows to perceive time, and Logan heard no other sounds from Barry and no indication that Reaver had returned. This left him with his thoughts which eventually turned to the house he was in.

Searching his memories Logan could not conjure up any mention of his mother owning property in Bloodstone. The city had been mentioned in his mother's diary and he vaguely remembered tales of a rebellion. This place was within the rule of Albion but it was secluded and none of its residents turned up in the capital nor sent requests for the King's audience. Bloodstone was port city with the type of people that enjoyed debauchery and their own laws. A place Reaver undoubtedly felt at home in.

When Logan finally regained sensation in his legs he left the room. There were other rooms in the hall, one door closed and the other opened. He had no interest in Barry or what he was up to. For the time being Logan made his way to the first floor. Here the bookshelves were full but dust covered as were the furniture. The main room led to another that had been partially visible from the walkway on the second floor. The room housed a fire place with a fire already burning, as well as desk and a few lounging sofas.

It was the covered paintings leaning on the wall that Logan took interest in. Much of them were landscapes and seascapes, worn with age. There were also a few unnamed people, smiling and sitting properly for their portrait. The last couple of paintings, though, were of Reaver. He hadn't changed much, save for his hair and his style of dress. While the paintings must have been lavish in their moments of hanging on the walls, here they were slashed by blade and one or two had bullet holes leveled with the painting's chest.

"Well, looks like someone wasn't too pleased after they bought this place."

"If what she wrote was true, I can understand why." Logan glanced at Reaver, doing a double take. It was almost like night and day with the man. The last he remembered Reaver looked washed out and dulled with time. Now he appeared to be revitalized, the shine back in his hair, and that glint of knowing mischief in his eyes. What bothered Logan, though, was the absences of one thing. "Where is Vanessa?"

Reaver smiled and strolled in to the room, surveying what was there. "Don't you worry about her, Logan. Everything is fine now."

"Fine?" Logan let the paintings fall back against the wall in a cloud of dust. "What's happened to her, Reaver? Did you leave where ever it was you took her? Or did you let someone have a turn with her."

"Don't you elude to me whoring out a young woman," Reaver spat. "It may not seem like it but I do have some morals."

Logan took in a deep breath, "Alright, but tell me where she is."

Reaver stood before the fire and stared into the embers, "In your mother's writings, did she ever say exactly what happened when I sent her to Wraithmarsh?"

"Just that she found out the secret behind everlasting youth."

"No mention of what said secret was?"

Logan shook his head, "Just that she met with the Shadow Court."

"The Shadow Court takes the youth from those bearing their dark seal. That youth is then given to me and the vicious cycle continues until I decide not to continue it."

"Take the youth?"

Reaver turned to Logan, a smile spreading across his face as he noticed the confusion. "Yes. The sacrifice, if you don't mind such a crude term, is suddenly and unceremoniously thrown into their elderly years."

Then it hit him. Logan's eyes grew wide, "My mother. . . . She aged properly."

"That she did. Sparrow kept her youth by forcing the seal into the hands of some lowly girl who was somehow teleported into the temple." Reaver slowly closed the gap between the two, studying the look of shock that passed over the king's face. "Like I said, your mother was different person before your father came along."

"I can't believe that. My mother. . . . my mother was kind and gentle, and from what my father says, she was always like that. She wouldn't hurt anyone unless there was no other way. What happened to her?"

"The Spire that you've seen in the distance all your life? You mother was a slave there, so I've been told. For ten years she worked in that place, working for Lord Lucien, a man she had been after her entire life. Brainwashed until she forgot nearly everything else. She killed on command and never thought twice. When she finally escaped and returned to our shores she was greeted by more pain. Your mother had a husband before leaving for the Spire and when she returned he promptly left saying she had been neglectful, crushing her even more. With only her dog and the ever present voice of Theresa in her head to push her along, she vowed to make Lucien pay no matter what and killed whomever was in her way."

Logan took in a shaky breath, realizing that he had held it during Reaver's admission. "She never spoke a word of this," he muttered. He turned away from Reaver and let himself sit on one of the sofas. "She never wrote any of it down."

"When your father courted your mother, she found hope in the world again. There was a chance to love and have a family. All those horrors still haunted her and those urges to lash out still simmered beneath surface, but Sparrow had the ability to contain it. Her past was locked away and no one was to speak of it."

"Stop it," Logan seethed. "I don't want to hear any more."

"As you wish, but I think thing will be better now that you know about dear mommy's past. Given the circumstances you're in, she'd be doing the same thing."

Logan lowered his head, "This is not comforting, Reaver."

"It's not meant to be. Just think about all of that; we'll be here another few days until I can procure a ship to take us back to the city."


End file.
